No Words Were Needed
by orphan mia
Summary: They both unlocked something in the other and time passed as it would. It only takes one night to unite Betelgeuse and Lydia again. Rated T for themes and language. subtle Betelgeuse/Lydia. one-shot


No Words Were Needed

A/N: Well, I'm thinking of making this a one-shot because I've got another multi-chaptered story in the works at the moment, and may make a new one... but if you think that this needs more, don't hesitate to give the word, I may add on to it. Well, please read and Review!

I

Watching Betelgeuse fall down into the floor, a roaring sandworm right behind him brought out something in Lydia Deetz. She threw the ring after him, hoping that somehow he'd still have it after he got away from the monster. Funny, she was assuming that he was going to escape. She wasn't enough of a fool to believe he'd let himself be defeated so easily.

She might have only known him for a few horrifying hours, but that was enough to understand what kind of man he was. Watching Betelgeuse fall allowed Lydia to be brave and turn around and deal with her life. If she couldn't be strong for herself, she could be strong for him, to show him how much she had grown and changed.

Years passed, and Lydia pushed through highschool and into college. She made her family proud and was accepted into NYU for her photography. She left home, left Adam, Barbara, Charles, and Delia.

For three years, Lydia grew and became a top student and loved every minute of her life as long as she had her camera.

Exhaling softly, the young woman walked down the streets of New York to her apartment. The lights flickered, and Lydia stepped into a puddle.

That was when her bravery was tested. A hand shot out in the dark, yanking her into the alleyway. Her shoulder burned as a cold knife pressed into her throat. Adrenalin stung her eyes as she experienced a horrible disbelief that _this was actually happening._

"Don't move, baby." The man's breath was rank with alcohol. It was sour. Dangerous. "We wouldn't want to ruin that pretty neck of yours, would we?" He ripped open her blouse. "Don't move... don't scream, or I'll slice your fucking throat open."

Lydia's skin was tight, hot tears prickling her eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest as his greasy hands slipped under her shirt. She jerked, trying to wrench away but the knife held fast against her skin.

Grunting, something _hard_ and _warm_ pressed into her backside. Bitter saliva gathered in her mouth and Lydia felt like she was going to vomit as her underwear was pulled down her legs.

Lydia smacked her lips together and allowed her bravery to fall after all these years. She hiccuped as his fingers crept up her stockings, up to her—

"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!"

The rapist stopped, confused at the words that burst from the woman's mouth. He allowed the knife to slip from her throat.

"What did you s— AAAGH!"

The darkness yanked him back. Lydia fell to the ground, choking and partially naked. Her stockings ripped and her knees hit the pavement. She breathed, tears running down her face. She listened to the man's pleas as they turned into shrill screams. Then silence. They were no people or cars... _nothing _except Lydia and the dark. The dark shifted, just as silent as she was.

Warm hands, her hands, touched her neck, then her chest, then her thighs. Greasy trails remained even though he was gone. In all her life she had never been so scared. Not even when Betelgeuse took the form of a giant snake, not even when she was moments away from becoming a wife.

Because... although he was a pervert... he _never_... he _could_ have, and maybe he _would _have, but he _didn't _ever do that to her.

Sniffing, Lydia hiccuped and slid what remained of her bra back on, but found it was too disgusting. She unclasped it and threw it as far away from her as she could. Her fingers struggled with the few buttons that were left on her blouse. Her lungs fluttered, and her hands fell away.

Lydia Deetz, once strong and confident, sobbed, crying like she was a little girl.

II

Watching Lydia rise above him as he sank down, Betelgeuse felt something open inside of him. It was as if there was a music box in him, and now it was playing. However, he couldn't place the tune. He watched her, and he knew she would continue to live.

True, he only knew her for a few exciting hours, but she had spunk that was just _waiting_ to be unlocked. In fact, Betelgeuse was willing to bet his left testicle that she would give up all that emo garbage and start moving on from self-pity.

He sat in that stinking waiting room until his eyes crusted themselves shut. His anger and thoughts of how that night _could_ have gone nearly drove him out of his mind. If only that stupid woman had been a few moments late... he could have completed the ceremony, given Lydia a quick kiss, and he would have been free. End of story.

Instead, he had to fight off a hungry sandworm and sit in a cramped room with a shrunken head for God-knows-how-long.

Juno was able to get his head back to normal size and talk the council out of sentencing him to being exorcized. Instead she gave him all of the unwanted paperwork. He was on a semi-loose leash. He was able to take three very strict smoking breaks, one of which he could spend in the living world.

In just a century his sentence would be over and he could find himself another opportunity.

Occasionally his thoughts drifted back to Lydia Deetz. He never made much of it other than curiosity as to how she's changed over the years.

And then... he was summoned. Right out of his desk and building and into the dark underbelly of New York City. He was surrounded by darkness, and the first thing he noticed was the smell. A musk, distinct scent filled his nostrils, and he immediately knew what it was. It was the smell of an aroused man.

However, he smelled burned salt and a sour stench that made his tongue shrivel up in his mouth. The scent of a woman frightened out of her mind.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If this woman _hadn't_ called him, this man... this _disease _would have been brought to justice. It might not have happened right away, but he might have been persecuted by the legal system, or he might get hit by a car. Either way, he would get a very brutal taste of his own medicine.

But he didn't have to wait. Betelgeuse growled and yanked him back. He felt the familiar rush of power of being a messenger of fear as he pulled that man into the darkness. Into fear where he would never come out.

Deranged happiness coursed through him at every pulled fingernail and broken tooth. For every "please" and ear-piercing scream, Betelgeuse allowed his grin to grow a little wider until his face almost split in two. Then, as the withering garbage was thrown into agonizing unconsciousness, it was quiet. At first, Betelgeuse continued to hold the man, expecting to go another round.

Course material slipped through his fingers and he left the man hit the ground. Glowing green eyes turned to see a woman on the ground. She was trembling from head to toe, but she was still eerily silent. The woman was professionally dressed, but judging by her body, she couldn't be older than twenty-one.

That was when a familiar choked sob made its way to the poltergeist's ears. A childish, frightened, and sad sob that he had heard before. Without thinking about it, Betelgeuse began to unbutton his suit jacket.

III

Each sob was for a different disappointment. Disappointment for not fighting back enough, disappointment in herself for arriving at such a situation, and disappointment in summoning a potentially dangerous poltergeist. She had taken lessons in self-defense, and she usually walked home with friends... and the _one_ night she traveled alone...

The clicking of boots sounded from behind her. Warm material draped around her bare shoulders. The silence was broken, car horns and the chatter of people reaching Lydia's ears. She didn't dare speak first... too fearful... too shocked.

"Babes?" His voice was softer than usual. Still gravelly, but... not as forced as it had been when he had been trying to scare her... back when she was twelve. "Is that you?"

She nodded, still on the ground.

"Y-Yeah, it's me."

Finding some strength inside of herself, she stood. Her knees shuddered, and she soon fell, only to be caught and held up by strong, masculine arms. He waited, not once cracking a lewd joke or trying to catch a peek at her exposed body. Lydia shakily buttoned his jacket and readjusted her skirt.

Her fingers moved to pull up her underwear, but she felt _him_ on it... and quickly kicked them off, gagging with nausea.

Betelgeuse still said nothing even as she turned to look at him. Normally, she would have been embarrassed to show her red and puffy face to another, but he wasn't just _anyone_. He was her former fiancé... and even though she felt no love for him, as he felt none for her, that still made him closely connected to her... in some sick and twisted way.

Lydia figured she had Stockholm Syndrome, but that didn't matter at the moment.

"Are you hungry?" He blinked at the strange and utterly random question. "I've got some pizza back at my apartment... if you don't mind re-heated food, you're welcome to have some."

They stared at each other. Lydia's speech was still a bit shaky from her tears, and she still trembled, but her eyes were very clear and honest.

She was looking at his eyes, the black rings around them were faded... a greyish-purple instead of their former ink-like nature. His chest was revealed to her, under a crisp, white shirt, but he was a bit slimmer than she remembered. Shorter too, not as looming, but she _had_ grown several inches since she last saw him.

He was looking at her face, how mature it had gotten. Those thin lips and rat-nest hair had filled out and gotten smooth. Her curves... she _had_ them... but the one thing that hadn't changed were her eyes. They still held the same spunk, the morbid humor, and _good_ in them. He recognized those eyes if nothing else.

"Sure, babes. Sure."

A ghost of a smile flickered over her lips. She nodded for him to follow her, and he did. It took a few moments, but they fell into an even pace, not saying a word as their shoulders brushed up against each other.

No words were needed.

IV

A/N: Well, that's it. I'm not really sure where this came from in my strange mind, but here it is. I hope everyone was in character... I mean, I didn't make Betelgeuse the white-knight who sweeps Lydia off her feet and they live happily ever after, right? I mean... I don't know, please, tell me what you think. All sorts of reviews are welcome, especially constructive criticism. This was meant to be a one-shot, but if you guys are interested in more, just leave the word. Or, if you think it would be better as just a short fic, then... against, let me know. Thank you!

-mia


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